


Curse Without A Conscience

by MsTerror



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Assassination, Because Cicero is like 35+, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, But this is Skyrim things are whack, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Cicero Being Cicero (Elder Scrolls), Cicero is fucking whack, Crazy, Dark Comedy, Dark Past, Dragons, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hearing Voices, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Killing, Main character is also crazy but gets better, Older Man/Younger Woman, Plot Twists, Romance, Secret Identity, Skyrim Spoilers, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Social Issues, Why Did I Write This?, murder is fun, or something like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24468868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsTerror/pseuds/MsTerror
Summary: Brela as always known tragity, ever since she was a child. Constant fear made home within her deaden soul, or so she thought.Plagued by a voice in her head, she is lead to join the merry band of assassins known as the Dark Brotherhood. She finally finds a place where she belongs, a home, after years of living on the streets. She learns to trust others again, to be apart of a family, and even falls in love with a psychotic jester.But all that is snatched from her once she learns more about herself and her parents.____I've had this story just sitting around collecting dust. Chapter 1-5 and the prologue is from a year ago. After chapter 5 is my present writing -- you might be able to tell. Currently thinking of rewriting the first few chapters, but I'm lazy lmao.
Relationships: Cicero (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Cicero/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Cicero/Female Listener (Elder Scrolls), Cicero/Listener (Elder Scrolls)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment if I screwed something up so I can fix it. Like the town where Brela was before, I'm not sure is I fixed it but they might be different towns. 1-2 chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this story as much as I did writing it.

_Everything was red. Crimson. The scent of sickly metallic clung to the air in a stuffy manner._

_It seeped into the polished flooring, spreading, forming._

She peers down from up top the stairs in horror – her mother, laying, gasping for air on the floor and bathing in a puddle of her own blood. She was pale, her once lush pink lips now a shade of blue, and her eyes were wide, as they landed upon her daughter who was witnessing the event. The child stood up and began down the stairs almost hurriedly. But was halted by her mother, who shook her head, a tear ran down her face as she looked at her daughter for the last time.

Then she mouthed the words _run._

Someone staggers out of the shadows, clad in armor of red and black, blinding perfectly in the unlit room. There near laid another body, a feet inches from her mother, matching attire to the stranger. Brela was left frozen, her small hands shaking as the lanky stranger reluctantly, if not painfully, pulls a dagger that was embedded in their side.

“You’re treachery as fallen to an end, Delyssa. You’ve conspired against our family… your family. You’ve killed your brothers and sisters. And your husband was taken care of, his trip to Skyrim was cut short, might I say.” The stranger chuckled. “Finally, I get to relish the fact that the Order of the Bound are now near their end. Once we find the rest of you, that is. May Sithis judge you righteously.”

And then they stomped her mother’s chest, her rib cage crushing instantly.  
The sickening crack of bones echoed in her ears. She couldn’t stop the cry she let out, tears began to pour down the six year olds face. Her mothers eyes were frozen open, and dull with exploding pupils.

And her killer was right there, mutilating her mother’s body. Even after she was obviously dead.

The strangers murderous gaze snaps in Brela's direction. Eyes flashing her dismise in an instant. And with that they lash out, making their way to her. The dagger gleaming in anticipation.

She let’s out a yelp, quickly making her way up the stairs far away from the murderer. She runs to her bedroom and locks the door. The door nob turns but doesn’t open, but she still backs away. Breathing began to become hard for her to do. Her body swallowed in unfamable fear.

Her eyes lands on her window, its two story but it’s the only way out. She quickly makes her way onto the rooftop. She knew if she jumped she would possibly break her legs, or worse. But nothing is worse than whatever the killer has in store for her. She didn’t want to end up like her mother: dead.

The Breton grips the loose bricks, her small figure making it easy to maneuver on the rooftop. She peers down at the bush beneath her. Perhaps this will help break her fall? Just as she goes to make the jump the breaking of her bedroom door vibrates in her ears.

Her landing didn’t hurt in the slightest, besides a few pesky leaves sticking to her. The little girl sighed in relief, picking herself up out of the bush. The sound of crunching snaps her out of her mind. The killer was on the roof now.

Brela ran and ran, her bare feet cut and bleeding from the forest floor. Her house was in the middle of no where; the nearest town was probably a few miles away. Nothing but endless variety of trees and vegetation, and the acational wildlife. She was truly left alone – to deal with the maniac chasing her.

Were they still following her? She couldn’t hear anything besides herself.

She halted to rest, her attention darting which and everyway. The smallest noise setting off her heart in a frenzy. She must of lost them.

She couldn’t stop the stream of tears that leaked down her face. She threw herself against a tree, curling into a ball. She was alone. Left in this world with no one to care for. Everyone was gone. The image of her mother burned in her mind. The blood. All the blood. She knew death, how it smelt now. Perhaps that’s what happened to her father? Murdered such as her mother. But the little girl didn’t know, if the person was telling the truth or not.

She wiped her face with her shirt, which was now soaked. She was shaking uncontrollably, a new emotion bubbling within her. She was angry. She wanted vengeance, to kill the stranger for what they have done. They’ve destroyed her family. And now she was left with none to call her own.

_Crack!_

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her hands frigiting and gripping her dress.

She could smell them – death. An overbearing sent of metallic, and decay. Rotting might she add.

Appearing out of no where stood the stranger, hands over their bleeding wound. Now that she was out in the open underneath the brightly luminous moon, she could make out the figure, and the many several slices that cut deep. Her mother surely did put up a fight, that’s for sure. Not to mention the chaser was actually a male from what the six year old could tell.

“Time to sleep, child.” He say, voice muffled by the cowl they were hiding behind. The tone of their voice answering her suspension. The man was human, perhaps imperial. His eyes were blood shot, his skin a sickly grayish green, viens the shade of purple clashing against the tone. Poison. Hes dying of poison.

The girl shot up from her position. She was ready to sprint. It’s not like he could catch her, soon he would clasps from the poison her mother inflicted. She could tell by the barely audible weazing he were trying so desperately to muffle.

Brela filled with courage, anger seeping and pulsing through her bones. “Leave me alone!”

The murderer chuckled, venom soon dripping from his tone, cutting right through Brela's courage like a hot knife through butter. “I can’t let you live.” He gasp for air, trying desperately to fill his lungs with presouis air. “There must be no survivors. You can thank your parents for this, their actions lead to your own death. Perhaps you’ll see them in the void, if Sithis has mercy on you.”

Brela shivered, and her hands clenching and unclenching. And then she made a run for it. Or so she tried.

He shot out towards her, grabbing hold of her long hair. Pain shot up to her skull and her hands clawed desperately against the gloved hand that held her. The murderer couldn’t stop coughing. Brela took this as her chance and twisted in his grasp, grabbing hold of her hair and yanking it free. But just as she was about to make a break for it something pulls her to the ground. Her eyes widen suddenly from the sudden appearance of a knife.

It was right above her, the stranger held it into the air for a split second, bringing it down. The child turns out of the way of the blow, the dagger embedding itself into the soft soil just inches away. Brela brought her leg up to her chest and released a kick in the much bigger figures chest just as he attempted for another shot.

She must’ve done something right, because soon after her attempt the person curled over. He began to gurgle, and something began to drip from their cowl, right where his mouth is. The child quickly maneuvered from his grasp. But that didn’t stop him.

The killer brought the knife down on her, slicing the child’s calf.  
Brela screams from the throbbing pain.

Something clicks in her mind, something morbid. And with the idea still simmering – she digs her nails into the ground, crawling over to a stick. Out of his range. He was becoming deadly weak, his eyes now leaking crimson from the corners and running down his face. Her tiny hands brush against the rather sturdy stick, thick enough to use, and definitely not of the flimsy kind.  
The child grits her teeth, picking herself up with a staggering attempt. She makes her way over to the dying person. Their eyes locked on one another, death in both glares.

“This is for my mother!” the child screams. She stabs the stick into the soft tissue of his darkened forest eyes, a squishy sound following afterwards.

He let out a blood curdling scream, hands flying over his face. The stick still sticking in the socket where his right eye used to be.

Brela picks up the dagger he dropped. Her hands shook but her mind was clear. Her breathing was steadying in a rhythmic tone. And without hesitation, she stabs him. Over and over again. Even when he were clearly dead. Poisonous blood spraying over her form, matting her hair.

She lifts herself up and the hand which held the dagger drenched in life nectar. She drops it, backing away slowly. She felt numb as she stared down at the corpse.

She actually did it.

She killed someone.

What was she going to do?

Where was she going to go?

Why were these people after her and her parents?

She didn’t know, not one bit. But all she was worried about was getting cleaned up before the blood stained her skin and makes her sick. Not to mention her current wound. And of course – her dead mother.


	2. Chapter 1

The winter wind licked harshly at my bare skin, cold seeped through my toes and spread painfully through my feet. I felt my muscles began to ache and grind against one another. And the longer I stood there, the more my hands began to shake, as a poor attempt to reheat itself. I smelt the smoldering fires, the suffocating black smoke. In the distance, they twisted majestically, like snakes up towards the heavens into the starry sky, dispersing into the night. But not even the hot flames that grew from my palms could warm my being, and it was dying out as the fire leached into the frozen air.

"Shes over here!" A guard yelled. "Get her!"

They've found me. Shit.

I sucked in a lung full of icy air and dashed around the building, my fiery grip gliding over the rotting wood and engulfing it into a beautiful blaze.

I always found the power of fire to be quit endearing, dangerously brilliant in its own form. Its ability to sustain life and the ability to take it away just as efficiently.

I flicked my eyes back and a wicked grin graced my lips. Everything, well almost everything, was ablaze in shades of red and orange, even yellow. The flames cooling as it reached high in the air, signaling the towns own demise. The wailing cries and screams of the towns people echoed off the buildings that still stood. The children screamed for their parents, who were still stuck in their homes which were engulfed in lushes flames. Some were reversed situations, others just sat there too dazed and frightened to comprehend such a tragedy.

And thats a good thing, considering most of the guards are too busy trying to help with the fire, not to mention the towns people. Making my escape ten times easier then what I thought it would have been. But that didnt account for the ones that followed me.

Something whizzed right in front of me, cutting the tip of my nose. A chilling sweat ran down my back, and formed on my brow; there was an arrow stuck into the old wooden wall, which was intently meant for me.

They had the archers out. I am doomed.

I ducked behind railings and barrels, and tried my best to stay out of direct sight. I pulled over my hood, dashing through people. The burning aroma of burnt flesh stuck in my nostrils. Sweet smoke sent my lungs on fire in its own way, and I couldnt breathe. Choking. I ran towards one of the many gates of the town through blurry eyes.

I was thrown to the ground; my face collided harshly against the ash coated snow. I could practically taste dirt. I wasnt pulled down from some force, no. I fell down.

I let out a strangled scream and feel blood well into my throat from the tongue I had just bitten through in vain attempt to keep quiet.

There was an arrow in my leg. And its the worst pain Ive ever felt in my nineteen years of age. Physically at the most.

I grit my teeth and reach down to it, my fingers snaking around the base close to my mangled flesh. Pain rippled, a horrible burning stung at my nerves like acid. With little hesitation, I ripped it out. Tears stung at my dried eyes. My hands were slick with my own blood.

"I've got her!" Someone yelled over head.

I tried to get up, even attempted to crawl my way to freedom. But it was all in vain. I could barely move because the searing pain in my leg was too much. I was too weak.

A steel boot dug into my side throwing me to the ground once more; I landed on my wound, the snow licking venomly at the bloody gash.

I was soon surrounded by guards. They held swords drawn towards me, hiding behind leather shields, faces filled with an expression of vengeance. All of them.

So, this is how Im going to die? Nice. Just lovely indeed.

"We should just kill her right here right now. She destroyed the whole town and killed almost everyone! Ill do it myself if I have to!"

"I agree!"

"Me as well."

I did one last attempt to sit up; they surrounded me more, one slammed their shield against my skull and threw my head back harshly.

" _Kill them all, my child,_ " the voice in my head seethed. " _Use your undying flame. Send them all to the void. You can do it._ "

And then it clicked, unnaturally. Both of my palms lit up, fire flowing like water from my finger tips. As soon as the guards saw they backed up instantly. But it was too late. My palms explode in ripples of fire, crashing into bodies, burning them to a crisp instantly. My low magicka throbbed through my arms and started to wear on my muscles.

I snatched up a sword and used it like a cane, and quickly dispersed myself into the crowd of people running out of the gate trying so desperately to escape the fire and smoke.

I darted and navigated through the forest; close to the main road. My thin clothing was soaked from the snow, and I could feel the icy climate seeping to my bones, making it harder for me to move my limps – and to breath.

After a while of walking, correction: staggering aimlessly through the woods. I crashed down, sitting myself right against a tree. I tore back my pants to exam my bloody wound.

Shit, I muttered upon examination. It was still bleeding, and it was far worse then what I originally thought. My flesh was split in multiple directions, and I could see the white of my bone almost. I had only one option or die of blood lost. Even if I was possible going to die from freezing to death.

I cleared a spot in the snow, a small circle; and stuck sticks in the middle. I felt the tingle in my arm as flame erupted from my hand once more, heating the partially wet wood. It took some time but I finally got the fire going. A small campfire.

I bit my lip and picked the sword up from beside me; and wiped away the dirt that coated it with my shirt. I stuck the tip into the fire, where the flame is the hottest. I settled myself near the campfire and bathed in the precious heat I desperately craved and needed. I still felt the aching numbness in my toes, considering the wet ground soaked into my shoes fabric. That is, if you considered rags as shoes.

The steel was now a dull red hue. Perfect.

I cant believe what I'm about to do.

I gathered the collar of my shirt into my mouth and bit down. My hands shook as I gripped the handle of the sword. I felt sick to my stomach suddenly.

Can I do this? Ive never done this before, nor have I ever witnessed such a treatment, only heard about it. But I had to, no doubt about it.

I hesitated; I could feel the heat radiated from the glowing hot sword against my sensitive raw flesh. And then I pressed down. I tried to scream and bit down so hard on my shirt Im pretty sure I just chewed holes in it. I tried to stay still but my body jerked from the sudden terrifying contact; my toes curled in misery. My wound sizzled, sickly, like when you fry bacon in a pan. I felt like puking from the smell of my own burning flesh, not to mention the pain that pulsed through my whole being.

I did it in pulses, pressing the sword down every few seconds before lifting it up to see if it cauterized correctly. It was an agonizing process. Not long after my wound was sealed and no longer bleeding. I settled down and tried to control my heart which was threatening to burst out of my chest.

I had to. They made me do. I couldnt let them lock me up for the rest of my life for something I did not do. So one persons life turned into many, soon a whole town, and then some.

So basically, before this all happened, there was a issue that involved thievery. Yes, I was cold, freezing my ass off might I had, and I did ask for a blanket which was more like a potatoe sack cut opened. I didnt have the septims; I lived on the streets, no home, no family, and certainly nothing to call my own. Everyone in the town of Bruma dispised me and wished nothing but to see me rot and suffer. Even the children, whos been fed lies by their parents. At first it wasnt like this, people actually pitied me because I was after all a child left out on the streets; I was given a gold coin here and there, stale bread and old clothing, and a bed roll.

Considering I was a child, I was small and pretty damn sneaky too and thats where work came in. Towns folk would hire me to do odd jobs; jobs that required my talents. Jobs that no one wanted to do, others however, were not of the best of nature. Something happened, rumors spreaded, and false actusantions that were serouis. After that I was on the gaurds main survalence – they wouldnt even let me leave the town. Considering I was practically being watched twenty four seven I had to stop doing those jobs; and not a single soul would help me: a twelve year old child. Ive been rotting away in those stone walls for Talos knows how long.

I was accused of stealing the blanket, which of course I had not. The guards been aching to throw me in jail for a long time, I could tell; which explains the reason why they tried to lock me up without evidence.

And thats why I killed them. In the end, more then what I thought id do. And I felt nothing, no remorse. I felt numb to it all. I was numb to the killing, even the idea that I killed children. I did not care because they had it coming to them. The look in someones eyes right before you kill them, pleading, and knowing youre going to be the last thing they see before they die; It makes me feel powerful, strong in an addictive manner. I wanted to see more, to feel this feeling of dominance once again.

Is that a bad thing? I wonder how my parents would react if they learned I enjoyed such an activity and not to mention I have an old lady living in my head. But theyre dead. Dead as dirt.

I wish they were here to judge me, just so I could see them. Even though I knew they would be disappointed. But it doesnt matter what I wanted – it never has.

________

  
The sun speckled the sparkling snowy ground; the birds singing over head as they rustled the leaves calmly, looking for their morning meal. The crisps, nosy biting light breeze was refreshing. The campfire was out and the smoke that drifted up was the only idecation it was ever lit. The smoke smelt of rich oak: the same scent in the kitchen when you prepare meals. The scenery would have been a bueaty to the eyes. That is, if I wasnt half frozen to began with.

I know ill be dancing with death soon if I didnt get up and move around. I braced myself for the long journey ahead of me. I knew I couldnt stay in Tamriel. It wouldnt be long before people find me, that is, if someone is actually searching for me. I wouldnt be surprised if so.

And the closest was Skyrim, a place more hostile and deadly then the tame lands of Cyrodiil. The road ahead was unknown to me, such as the landscape. What if they are already waiting for me at the border? I don't know what I'll do, whats to come. I could possibly go over the mountains but thats a stupid idea considering my current state. That only left one option: the main road. Consider me dead already.

It took me about two hours to reach the Pass, the road trail that lead into Skyrim. My new home.

I couldnt stop the dread that pumped through my viens as I read over the bold lettering.

 **SKYRIM**.

I felt both excited yet scared. I was about to start a new life, a new beginning. This could be good. Or I could possibly be hunted down and slaughtered right when I feel safe and secure. That could be whenever, however. Just as my father on these roads.

My father died on the way to Skyrim, or so I believe. I wish I knew the truth. I still had no clue who or what killed my parents, or why someone would do such a thing. It would be nice to know what happened, but ive been busy surviving for so long its became unerelvant.

My blood ran cold like ice, not from the cold tantra, but the faint crunch of snow off in the distance. And they drew closer. No, it can't be what I think it is. I thought. But I sped up my pace still, not wanting to risk it.

I broke out into a cold sweat and felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

I felt something brush against my face before huge hands wrapped around my neck and tackled me to the ground. I heaved in long gasps but I couldn't breath. The wind was knocked from my lungs and I was being choked. My eyes felt like they were about to bulge from their sockets when the attacker clamped his hands tighter around my fragile throat. I clawed at the viscous hands and drew blood. But that didn't stop him. The man was briming with rage, murderous.

But he let go. Not out of pity, no. There were more men, towns people thats been tracking me. They wanted to kill me, just not in the way that involved me being offed mercifully such as with suffocation.

"You think you can just get away with what you've done?" One of the men stepped forward. I shot up from the ground quickly, still gasping for oxygen and trying to rid the light dizziness that detracted me.

They had me pinned against the side of the road that lead down into the unknown. There were five of them, only wearing everyday clothes, no armor. They each held a weapon, swords and one with an axe. I can't use my magic. Not right now, where I could pass out any time from over use and haustion.

But I laughed at them, trying to hide the obvious state of nervousness that almost paralyzed me on the spot. "Ah, what I fun, little sticky situation I'm in. Or well, you're in. I'll burn you to a crisp if you step any closer."

One of them scoffed at me. "Sure. Go right ahead then." The others looked at him like he grew two heads.

But I just stood there and grimaced. Shit. He knows. And after a few seconds the man smirked at my silence.

"See. Harmless as a wee baby," he stepped closer, a few feet away. "Too weak."

My heels grazed over the cliff. "Weak? Whatever you think, you old cunt."

His face turned red hot, morphed into bloody murder. Then he came at me head on.

I quickly threw the swords blade to deflect his. I stammered, almost loosing my balance and falling off the cliff. They all began to surround me. The man released his sword harder, striking me down. And that's when I felt air engulf me. And my foot slipped.

I gripped at the rocks, but it was useless. My side collided hard against the rigid mountain side, a sickening crunch that left me screaming at the top of my lungs. Pain shot through my nerves all over my body. I would have passed out from the pain if it wasn't the reasheraning whisps of danger that fogged my mind into staying consouis. Soon I crashed to the ground. The sword landed on my but didn't cause any damage. I just laid like that for a few minutes until picking myself up.

Or I attempted to anyway.

I stiffled tears and bit down on my tongue, and tasted blood from result. It was hard to breath. But like I did before, I used the sword to help me up. It was agonizing. I felt bruised and swollen everywhere.

I looked up at the mountain to see if I spotted any of my attackers. But they were gone. No one peered over the edge. They probably presumed me dead.

Lucky me.

I didn't let the idea simmer, however. I muffled myself and staggered deeper into the underbrush, making sure to stay in eye sight of the road to see where I need to go.


	3. Chapter 2

The roads were harsh and the weather was harsher. But the sun that shown over head was enough to heat up my bones considerably. My bruise ribs were sore - I still hadn't the faintest idea if they were broken; I had pulled up my shirt to see my delicate skin decorated in splotches of blue and black, speckles of sickly yellow. Not to mention how much it was swollen. Every breath was a painful attempt, as my lungs pressed against my rib cage.

I didn't know any restoration spells; and I certainly didn't have any healing potions. But I did know one thing: I could go for the alternative. That is, if I so happened across a blue mountain flower along my path. They are quite common, however, the Devines must not be on my side because I haven't spotted one. My luck, huh? Story of my life actually.

Desperate to get off the main road and possibly find some of those flowers, I made my way into the over brush. The heat of the sun was no longer gracing my skin, causing shivers to rack up my body. I wrapped my arms around my chest, but cried out in pain and drop my arms to my side.

Yep, they were definitely broken.

After a while of walking I spotted something from the corner of my eye - a brilliant blue. Yes! I've found it! I quickly plucked the delicate flower, not wanting to stay crouching for long.

The blue mountain flower has healing properties, though not strong, it is used in many healing potions and practices. It might not heal me completely but at least it will keep the pain at bay. Which in my opinion is good enough for me.

I stuff the head of the flower into my mouth and the not to sweet taste of the plant deffaintly didn't match with its delicious aroma. But what works is what works.

It took a few minutes but the powers of the flower were starting to take effect. It didn't hurt as nearly as bad as before when I tried to breath. There was a dull jab instead, like a needles being probbed into my sides. Trust me, this feels better. My track through the forest was coming to an end as I saw a clearing.

I knew I was truly in Skyrim when my jade eyes scanned the signs that pointed to civilization. And the road up ahead lead to Whiterun; I've scarcely heard of this city from traveling merchants.

I felt dread as my nerves began to play tricks of their own. Ive been practically locked up for my entire life, and I never really experienced the taste of adventure until now. Unless you count my wilderness explring I did as a child before everything was taken from me. Or, the only exploration I've ever enjoyed.

I remember faintly as my younger, innocent self running through the surrounding forest bare footed, my baby cheeks still prominent as I smiled from ear to ear, rosy and vivid. My father stood by and watched over me, his matching colored eyes crinkled at the edges in delight. This is my last memory of him. Before he left.

And I thought my wounds hurt, but really, it's the bittersweet remerenceed that sting the most.

_

I made sure that I was heading in the right direction to Whiterun. I always found it easy for me to get lost in in the most inconvenient, if not dier of situations. One wrong turn and I could end up being wolf chow, or the pickings for bandits, though I have nothing to offer anyways.

A normal person would feel a bit safe from such harms way, on the main road with passing guards and the towers, with swords ready for such enemies. But I did not. I felt my skin crawl with dread; I felt them watch me with suspension, as if I was their next target. What's stopping them? I am a traveler, a nobody. A criminal from Cyrodiil. More of a reason for them to sink their steel swords into my heart. But how would they know such a thing - they couldn't.

Or could they?

I was yanked from my dwelling thoughts by an obnoxious voice that belonged to a man.

"Agh! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!" The man bellows irritably.

It seemed his voice matched his clothing sense it seemed; he was clad in a jesters outfit of red and black, a piaring hat sat appropriately on deep auburn hair that flowed down just before his shoulders. He looked to be an older man, but not older then his early thirties. Perhaps late twenties? I mentally shook myself from my stupur.

My Interest fell somewhere else though, and I studied the gaint box behind the odd stranger, which was somewhat off the edge because the carts tilt. And then it clicked: that box is big enough to be a coffin, and if I heard correctly, it must be his mother's coffin. I flicked my eye toward the man once more and sure enough he glances in my direction.

I didn't realize I was just standing and staring until it was too late. The jesters face lit up, a damned smile stretching ear to ear, but his eyes still held evidence of annoyance. If it was directed towards me, I had no clue. He quickly waved me over.

"Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see? I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead. I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But... aggh! Wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?"

I stared down at the broken wheel at his feet I failed to notice.

I ran a hand through my long, knotted hair. "Oh, so it appears..."

I wasn't one for conversation. And so my people skills weren't exactly normal; the disadvantage of never having anybody to socialize with. Perhaps that's why I hear that voice in my head - maybe I'm mad - just as everyone predicted.

The man, now known as Cicero, knocks me from my trance. "You wouldn't mind helping poor Cicero, would you?"

I felt a pang in my heart, for some odd reason. I guess I had a strange sympathy for him. I usually don't for people, but I knew all too well of the pain caused by the lose of a loved one. How it can cripple the soul. I finally made eye contact.

"I... sure. How can I help?" I stuttered, and almost cursed myself out. And then I was ' _blessed'_ with such a strange sight. Well, strange couldn't even cover it. This man's behavior was very... Erratic, from what I could tell. Because he started dancing, happily humming, singing something I couldn't quite understand.

"Oh. Oh yes! Yes, the kind lady can certainly help! Go to the farm - the Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me! But he won't! He refuses! Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!"

Did I hear right - did he just mention he would give me coin for such a simple task? I was more motivated then ever.

"I'll see what I can do," I say, and made my way up to the farm.

I walked up behind what I could only assume was Loreius, an elderly man that was working away at a log. I was about to get his attention until he peered over his shoulder with the nastiest snare, one I wasn't expecting.

"Ill say this one last time you damn fool-uh... wait. You're not him," Loreius sighed in relief. He fully turned to me now and apologized. "Sorry about that. Thought you were that bat shit crazy jester again. What do you need?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "Well, that's why I'm here. To see if you'll help him." The old man was quick to fiery his brows.

"I'm not helping that crazy fool. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer. Why can't he just leave us alone?"

"He's willing to pay you for the trouble. Wouldn't it just be easier to do it and have him good and gone-"

Loreius raised his voice, "pay me? You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head. A jester? Here, in Skyrim? Ain't been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years. And he's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin, and he's going to bury his mother. Mother my eye. He could have anything in there. War contraband. Weapons. Skooma. Ain't no way I'm getting involved in any of that." Then he turned back around, releasing an aggressive strike on a log, slitting it in half. I stepped back.

I could see where he was coming from, but seriously? Cicero seems a bit crazy but he seemed genuinely concerned, if not horribly worried about his mother's coffin, and the need for burial. Loreius was just an ignorant old cunt. However, I can understand his suspection; it is quite an odd situation. But that doesn't make it right to refuse an offer like that, especially if he's willing to pay for such services.

I crossed my arms over my chest; pain bloomed in the nerves around my ribs, the flower was wearing off. This conversation was turning me sour.

"That seems very unlikely, and you know it. He seems he's telling nothing but the truth." I rub at my temple and stole a quick glance down the road to see Cicero feeding his horse.

I sighed. "Now, are you going to help the poor man or not?"

"Look, I... I... You're right. You're right," he stuttered. "Feller might be nutters, might not. But fact is, he needs help. I turn him away, what kind of man am I, hmm? Look, um... Thanks. And I'm sorry for my unneighborly reaction. If you talk to Cicero, you be sure and tell him I'll be down to help soon."

I turned around to start walking back down before facing back to the much older man. Only to realize he's already left.

Cicero met me at the bottom, eagerness eating away at his features. "So will Lorius help poor, poor Cicero?"

"He'll be down shortly to fix that wheel of yours." Upon hearing the good news the jester danced once more, genuinely happy.

"Oh stranger! You have made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic! But more! Even more! My mother thanks you! Here, here. For your troubles! Shiny, clinky gold! A few coins for a kind deed! And thank you! Thank you again." He handed me a coin purse and my eyes widened at the wight. It was filled with more septims then I thought I'd ever receive. There must be at least two hundred in there.

"I, thank you so much. This is too much," I stammered. "I barely did anything."

Cicero shook his head, still smiling. He seemed to smile a lot, especially considering the prominent laugh laughs that lined his thin lips. "No, no, no, not at all! The kind lady deserves it for her kind service she did for poor little Cicero in his time of need. Without you I wouldn't be getting help. Mother wouldn't be getting help! We would be stuck here, on the road. How horrible that would be. Horrible!"

I let a smile grace my face, one that was true and genuine. I haven't smiled in a long time. "Well, I wish safe travel for you and your mother."

"Yes! Goodbye kind stranger. I will wait for Loreius! Oh yes, mother and I will wait right here, right here until he fixes our wheel."

And with that I left the jester, with hope for the future and a bag full of septum.

_________

  
I narrowed my eyes and balled my fist. "What do you mean I can't enter the city?" The guard looked unconcerned.

"No ones allowed in Whiterun under Jarls orders thanks to the growing bandit attacks. Now run along, girl."

I felt my blood start to boil. How dare they?! How else am I going t get treatment? Would they seriously let me just die right here and then, right in front of the gate?

Well it seems like the time for the classic move of sucking up, even though my distaste for guards. Not all are bad, right?

"I've been traveling for some time now. I really need help. Please, can I get through? I'll leave tomorrow morning," I pleaded.

"Look," the guard started, actually taking pitty on me from my obviously torn appearance. "I don't make the rules, kid. But I'll tell you what: I'll let you in. But don't get in trouble. Or you'll be thrown out. Or worse." I could only nod in agreement.

Soon I was in and I was met with familiarly. Too familiar. Sickeningly.  
It reminded me of Bremlin. The town I attempted to burn to the ground.   
I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat and ventured further. I had stuff needing done, after all.

First of all, thanks to the reasonable sum of what Cicero gave me, I could get some new, less worn clothing. Perhaps a room for the night and diffianlty food. Maybe a case for my sword? I personally prefer a dagger, so I might just trade in. But whatever I do, I must have a bath, no exceptions. I smelt like a rotting skeever and sweat.

-

I stood at a counter, impatiently tapping my fingers against the worn wood. I just finished buying everything I could possibly need which was now cramed in a travelers bag that was safely secured on my shoulder. The inn keeper was busy cleaning a spilt mess, and soon as she was finished she turned her attention to me. Her lips curled into a fake appolginic smile.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, how may I help you?" she asked.

"Oh, uh," I began. "Do you have any available beds?"

"Yes we do. For ten septims."

Is it too late to reconsider sleeping on a bench?

"I'll take it." I grabbed the coin from the bag and gave it to the woman. It was lighter considerably.   
"Do you have bathing?"

The woman nods her head. "That'll be three coins if you plan on taking one." I happily complied and gave her the coin. "Lucky for you, I already have a pot of water going on in the back. Your room is at the top of those stairs, the first door to your right. Now, let me grab the water and show you to the bath."

She picked the pot of hot water and lead me a small room with a bathtub in the corner, and a divider on the other. After I thanked she left and I locked the door behind me, and placed my bag on the floor next to the chair. On top of the chair was a towel and unused soap. The hot water in the bath tub was steaming up the closaphobic room. I dug in my bag grabbing my new clothes and a red bottle of minor healing. I took a major healing potion earlier, but just to make sure I bought a minor healing. Good thing too, because my ribs still felt raw.

I popped the cork off the bottle, quickly downing the fowl tasting liquid that stung as it went down. Seconds later my aches and pains disappeared.

I began to peel my clothes off and stripped down to nothing. I was petite, my ribs shown from lack of food and nutrients. But my legs and arms had muscle from the labor I did to earn coin. The part that was full were my breast, which looked odd considering my size. I shook my head at my condition.

But then I gasped.

There was a soft pink slotch along my leg were the arrow pierced me. Now just a nasty scar, but not as noticeable as the one on my caff from long ago; where I was cut deep by my mother's attackers. These were my battle scars, my life reflected on my skin. And Im sure there are more to come.

As soon as my body sunk into the hot water calmness washed over me in ripples. It's been forever since I had a bath, a decent one at least. One that was warm-not to mention in a bathtub. All my worries melted away as if it was devolving in the bath along with the grim on my skin. And once it began to turn cold reality urged at me until I got out. Soon I was dressed in plain black pants and a white botton up shirt.

My room was worth the ten coins. It was furnished with a normal sized bed and a dresser, along with a bedside table. The bed was clean and made neatly, nice fabrics and puffy pillows. When was the last time since I slept in a bed? It's been too long, that's for sure. And without any more time to waste, I was underneath the covers within the seconds. I needed the sleep, because I needed a plan. I had no idea what my next move will be. Hopefully I can find work.

I quickly shook the idea out of my head. I need to sleep, not stay up worrying all night.

I closed my eyes and slipped off into a calm slumber.

Or so I tried.

My eyes shot open and a chill slithered down my spine as an all too familiar hissing shook my skull. No, not now. Of all times.

" _My child_ ," she begins. " _A child by the name of Aventus Aretino as called upon me. Go to Windhelm. Take his contract, forfil it. Kill whom he wishes-"_

I couldn't make her stop, to make her stop speaking. I seem to becoming worse because this voice in my head is becoming more vocal.

And the scary part is the voice is usually right; she usually has answers to thing I had no clue about.   
Which is why I complied, too tired to fight it. Plus, I already except the possibility I'm going mad. And without thinking twice I spoke out loud.

"Why?" I asked.

But I was left alone to my own thoughts.

Silence.


	4. Chapter 3

I tugged my black cloak tighter against my form and tried my best to brush off the cold that nipped harshly at me. It took me nearly two days get to Windhelm by foot; I was almost reluctant to steal a horse, but I didn’t want more people after me. That is, if there still is. I have no clue if they followed me all the way to Skyrim, but I haven’t been attacked since the border. But once again I’m in the frost biting weather and let me tell you, I am not a big fan.

I breathed deeply, letting my eyes cast down towards the ground. I was really crazy enough to listen and venture all the way to Windhelm to speak to some kid about killing someone. After all I have nothing better to do but search for work, so why not kill someone for money? That surely beats lifting cargo and busting my ass farming. Plus, in some cruel way, I find it to be a type of art. The grace and beauty of a blade as it does what it’s soul purpose is for: killing. As it slices into the flesh with precise persicion, and the deep crimson that flows like delatiable wine. And the way fire burns the skin into a whole new form, changing the person into chard flesh and bones. I would do it again, just for the fun of it. It was really something.

But the Dark Brotherhood – that's what I've heard – but I still didn’t know who or what that was. Not entirely, at least. I think I’ve heard of them before, sometime ago, on the streets. I think I may have heard my father mention something about a ‘brotherhood’ but that could mean anything, he had a group of men at the house once. Really big men too, all muscle and definitely warrior types by the look of them. My father was much smaller then them, he was lean but strong, and much quieter then the bearly men. But he never regarded them as that title, as the Dark Brotherhood.

But he’s said that name before, I remember. The Dark Brotherhood: a league of trained assassins. However, that’s all I know.

I began to aimlessly stroll through the quite streets; mostly everyone was indoors to escape the reluctant cold. The familiar smell of chimney smoke drifted through the air, oaky and warm. What if I just asked a guard where the Aretino’s use to reside – it would make things much easier – but draw suspension. But that idea quickly disappeared once I heard the name.

“Then it's true, what everyone is saying?” A young boy asked the woman. “That Aventus Aretino is doing the Black Sacrament? Trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?"

So I’m not crazy after all... But why did it tell me to come here, to do this. Could it be that I’ve already heard this and my mind Is playing tricks on me. Could it – or is there something more?   
I clung to the shadows and listened intently to the their conversation.

"Fine. Then I'll invite him out to play. He lives right there. I'm going to knock on his door..." The boy turns to the house I’ve been searching for, about to knock before being stopped emittaly by a sharp no from the woman. They walk away shortly after.

I stepped from behind the pillar and made my way in front of the house. I peered down the streets, and made sure no one was looking. I then reached down into my boot and pulled out a lockpick. It took a bitterly long time, about a few minutes, to unlock the rusted and frozen lock. I swiftly snuck in and closed the door with a sound. I had to snuffle my gasp. It smelt of rotten meat in here.

Holding back my urge to gag, I cautiously proceeded further into the sickening house. A light flicked across the wall, a room lit. Soon I stood in the doorway. My eyes widen at the sight and my stomach churned out of nerve. It wasn’t from disgust, but rather from surprised.

There were candles set around the small room, a skeleton laid in the middle, with rotting bags of flesh and organs besides the bones. And then there was a kid, Aventus Aretino. With a knife in hand, dried blood caked the blade and his hands, even him. He murmured some words before unleashing his rage on what I could only assume was a heart. He stabbed it over and over, no blood spilled because it was gone already. No doubt the red that stained the flooring. This was a sight I was not expecting.

My own feet turned against me as the wood underneath groaned from the weight. The boy sharply turned in my direction. He beamed up at me.

“You came! You really came!” He jumped to his feet. "It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the... the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood." I stayed silent for a second still surprised but quickly shook the feeling away. And then I chuckled.

“Whatever you think, kid.” I said.

The boy dropped the dagger and wiped the blood off his hands onto his shirt.

"It took so long. So very long,” he said almost yawning, his eyes were dark and puffy like he hasn’t slept in a while. But then he began again, with more ethusashem. “But now that you're here, you can accept my contract."

“Ah, of course. Contract,” I muttered. “Want me to kill someone. I’ll accept, as long as I get paid. But why does a kid like you want someone dead?”

"My mother, she... she died. I... I'm all alone now,” Aventus swallowed hard. He stared at the wall, sadly; his frown turned into a snare and he clenched his small fist. “So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!” He paused and thought for a second. “But please don't kill Constance Michel. She really is kind."

I knew the all too familiar feeling.

“How was she terrible? How did she treat you?”

“She would tell us no one wanted us. That no one would ever love us. She made us do chores until we’re sore, and if we didn’t she wouldn’t feed us. She’s horrible. And I hope you make her death painful.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “I know how you feel kid. I was in a similar position as you. Minus the bed and food, and well, an orphanage. I’ll kill that bitch for you, you have my word. It’ll get better for you.”

A smile replaced his frown. “Thank you!”

I turned around and began walking away. “No problem, kid.” 

____________

I drifted fluidity through the streets, my hood pulled over my head to hide my face and shield myself from the last hours of the blistering sun. The stale scent left over by the market pricked at my senses. I peered over a railing and saw murky water, rippling smoothly against the docks and panels. I was in Riften, a city known for the Thieves Guild, or so I’ve heard. I expected it to be rittled with filth and beggers. But, like most things, it wasn’t. It surprised me – a good surprise – it was pleasant to the eyes, the nicely constructed buildings and market. The atmosphere sent calm ripples down my spine, but I stayed cautious, alert. There were thieves after all. And, of course, my business here in Riften. I was here to kill not site see. 

I stayed firmly in the shadows of the falling sun. The skys perkiness fading into shades of purple and pink, then to its more tenebrosity state with speckles of brilliant light that dampened the gloom just a little.   
Soon I slipped into the orphanage without prying eyes. The door moaned as it shut and I cringed, fear clawing down my back and sweat formed on my brow as I slipped further in, and hid away from the door. There were shuffling, the mingling of children, but no one came to check on the door. 

I brushed my long hair back from my face only for a tangled bunch to be caught between my fingers. Great, I forgot to brush my hair once again. I scowled at myself and pulled it into a loose ponytail with a leather strip. A couple of minutes passed before the grouchy voice of an old woman’s boomed through the orphanage. 

She scowled the children, rambling on how horrible they were. Repeating everything the boy had said the woman had done. And he wasn’t wrong: this woman was terrible. Bitchy. Just listening her made my blood heat up uncontrollably, and my hand subconsciously gripped my dagger with tight, white knuckles. I waited a few more minutes for everyone to slip into sleep before exspertally tip toeing into the main chamber. But I stopped dead in my tracks. 

The sound of snuffling, then the pulling of sheets made me turn around. Big brown eyes the size of plates stared from behind pulled up blankets. They were red, moist with fresh tears. Crying. The child was crying. And they know I’m here. 

Shit. 

I held up my index finger to my mouth. In response the little girl pulled down the covers, confused. I had to do something before the kid gave me away. 

I drifted closer, finger to lips still, and whispered. “Aventus sent me,” said simply. The girls eyes widen and a smile took form, and blinked away the tears. The child laid down once more and paid no mind to me. 

Of course they would know, as expected. I made my way into the old hags rooms. 

I leaned over her sleeping form, comfortable and warm. But I was about to rip that from her – and oh how I’m going to enjoy each second of it. 

I held my dagger in one hand and balled up clothe in one. I grinned and pressed the tip of the blade below her wrinkled chin; I then smothered her mouth with the clothe and pressed the blade into her flesh to awaken her. 

She snapped awake, face dripping in rage. But it soon morphed into fear once she realized her position. I quietly chuckled at this. I crouched down closer so she could hear me. 

“tssk tssk, someone’s been overly bitchy. Man, how does it feel to be in you’re situation right now, I wonder? Are you scared?” I pressed the blade deeper, braking skin and earned a shudder. “And perhaps, you’re praying to the Divines for mercy. But I assure, wherever you’re heading isn’t going to be too fun. Mentally abusing children, now tell me, do you deserve mercy? No.” I smiled and breathed deeply. 

“Now let’s get down to business. Oh, and Aventus says hi by the way. Wish he could be here to see the look on your face.” And then I plunged the blade through her throat. I wiped the blood onto her covers. 

I quickly fled the area, away from the orphanage and as far away from Riften as possible. 

_ 

I stomped the snow from my boots and made my way to Aventus, who sat peacefully in a chair. In response to my sudden appearance he shot up, excitement pouring from him. 

“So, did you kill her? Is Grelod the kind dead?” 

“She’s dead. Even made sure to make her know it was you that sent me. You’re welcome.”

"Aha! I knew you could do it! I just knew it!” he said happily. “I knew the Dark Brotherhood would save me! Here, just like I promised. This should fetch you a nice price. And thank you. Thank you again.” He handed me a silver plate, which I slipped it into my bag. 

“No problem, kid. She deserved it.” I turned to leave, a cold draft hit me square in the face. I then noticed the lack of warmth and food in the house, an essential exspecselly in a cold climate. 

“Are you planning on staying here?” I questioned. "And freezing to death."

"No. I'll go back to the Orphanage in a while. I'll give them time to, you know... clean up the mess." 

I snickered at his answer and made my way back out into the icy landscape. 


	5. Chapter 4

There was something chilling in the wind, a sensation that slithered under my skin like worms, and it brushed swiftly across my back. The thick hair up top my head pricked, though it was in a loose ponytail; wild strands of mahogany cascaded the sides of my face in a framing manner, pronouncing my sulken cheeks furthermore. I felt as if I was being watched, like I was being observed with a preditors unwavering gaze – with murderous intent.

I checked my surroundings, commited every tree in detail but I saw nothing of oddesy. I was on my way to Whiterun once more on courier business that had me running from cities to even little houses hidden in the woods. Its been almost two weeks since I made Skyrim my home, and only a few days since I executed an assassination for that little boy. But ive been living good, better then my past situations. I had an actual job, a bit laboring and dangerous, but nonetheless Im finally able to afford food and bed. Im deffaintly not complaining, but delivering letters for the rest of my life is something I rather not do if I had the option.

A tree low enough for a person to climb began to rustle, slight yet noticeable. Some of its pure green leaves falling in its quake. My doubt of being followed suddenly disappeared and was replaced with something of a mixture: fear and anger. What if someone planned on robbing me or worse. Ive ran into a group of bandits before, not the brightest bunch such as all bandits ive heard of is, but these fuckers were dumber then a horker – three against one but I still came out alive, them, however, not so much. But maybe I was wrong about some of them. 

I froze in my tracks and gripped my daggers leather hilt that rested in its scabbard. I hesitated before making my way over to the tree cousouisly, my weapon ready to be used. As I neared closer the leaves swayed more. I staggered back the exact moment as something jumps out from behind the thick covering. The adrenaline that spicked my viens cooled down to nothing, my stiffened muscles calmed down and let my limps fall back to my side. A big black bird flew from the covering to the ground and started to peck at the twigs and browned leaves. I laughed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. Thank god no one saw that. I brushed off my emmabrassent and rounded back to the road, already tired of today.

Once back behind the fortified walls of Whiterun, the feeling of being watched disappeared on its own. It didnt take long to find Adrianne Avenicci , a sturdy woman that claimed to be a blacksmith, and delivered her a letter and a rather meaty package. She was the same woman I traded the sword for a dagger and scabbard. Pretty good deal to me. After I was finished with business I headed out to the market place that had a exciting compination of smells that beckoned me to have a look. Just a little wouldnt hurt, right? 

Fresh fruits and vegatables, and the hardy aroma of freshly baked bread made my mouth water. All sort of different meats to choose from: smoked, raw, grilled, stewed. From skeever to mammoth, but most common and affordable was rabbit. Skeever meat was also very cheap. 

I remember always having to hunt them down to eat just so I could survive and not starve to death. Like hell to the deseases they carried, im hungry. Im glad I didnt need to worry about the possible senaroi of me dying of starvation anymore. Just in the past few days ive gained a bit of weight from having a continues food supply, I eat everyday like I should.

I eat a small meal every morning to provide a proper kickstart for energy, usually consisting of a slither of smoked out meat accompanied by a fruit, preferably an apple. And then at night, I usually eat a slice of bread and some meat thats washed down with water. It felt wonderful to have something in my stomach; and to not deal with the constant painful aches of hunger. 

Back then I usually ate once a week, anything thats been discarded, such as molded bread and rotten vegatibles and fruit, which was rare because no one likes their food supply doing to waste. And then when I actually succeed in catching a skeever, I cut it into strips and cook it till its dry, like jerky. That way it lasts me a few days without spoiling. But one essential I've always had was water: just gather clean snow and melt it down. I always used this old discarded iron tavern mug that someone somehow cracked one of the sides till it stopped half way down the mug. I perfered to drink it warm just to heat up my fridgit, black soul. Nonetheless, sometimes I would do jobs such as carrying crates and such for merchants for a few septims, and the dirty jobs no one wanted to do such as clean the gutters the occationally clogged up. They left me as rotten as a troll. 

I planned on saving up those septims for better clothing, ones that were exceptable to society so I could actually do some proper work. But my health always came first and I had to spend it on medicine. And then finally, when I did have the coin to finally start anew, thats when I finally saw my place in this rachet world. The local tavern as been needing another waitress for months now, so I figured hey why not start there. But thats when everything went downhill from there. Apparently I'm not a friendly face, and of course, people enjoy such while being served. Now you see why I did what I did. It doesn't matter what you do, what you do for people, everything just comes back to stab you right in the back. I'm repeatably getting fucked by life and there's nothing I can do about it. What have I done to deserve this? Nothing. Not that I know of, at least. 

I wanted something to call my own. People to except me the way I am. Is that too much to ask? I suppose I dont deserve anything of that luxery; my parents and childhood were snatched from me, I was emotionally broken. 

I am broken.

Yet I'm here now, even through all the hardship. Finally having a chance at a normal life. 

I shook myself out of my depressing thoughts and picked up a sweet roll. I was going to treat myself, just this one time. You never know when your last breath will be so might as well treat each day like its your last. Plus, I damn right deserved it. I havent had one in years, and just the thought of the fresh patry made my taste buds water. I missed the way sweets tingled in my mouth, the way they made me content and warm on the inside. After I paid the merchant for the sweet roll I made my way over to The Bannered Mare with sweet roll in hand. 

My feet suddenly halted making my body sway forward, almost colliding into a chest. A man was in my way. He looked surprise and held up his hands in apology.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, and then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Got a letter for you." Then he handed it to me. I stopped him from walking away.

"Wait! Do you know who sent this?" I asked. 

He scratched his head. "No, I don't. Even if I did they said not to say anything. Sorry." I hummed and response, then he walked away without another word.

My finger glidded over the aged parchment, my index finger catching on the red wax stamp that held it closed. A grim indication of a skull was pressed into the wax, like a warning of the letters contents. My indexs finger nail slid under the sealed wax and popped it off the paper and preserving the evidence. My blood ran cold. First my eyes landed upon the black hand, strangely ghaustly. Then thats when the world began to spin.

Right below the hand was the words We Know. But that was all, nothing else, no signature to tell me whom sent this.

That would mean someone knows I killed Grelad. Maybe even what happened in Cryodiil. This cant be good – this isnt good. Who would know? I was as discreet as possible. Maybe the kid ratted me out, no, he wouldnt do that. Not to the authorities anyway.

The Dark Brotherhood.

Of course, they would. I stole one of their clients. Great, now I have a merry band of assassins after me, fucking fantastic. You would think they would have already killed me by now. 

I quickly stuffed the letter into my pack. My eyes darted over my surroundings, people everywhere. I suddenly felt anxous out in the open. Like I was bare, all my mistakes and past events displayed for every eye to witness. I tugged my hood over my head and quickly made a bee line for the tavern.

I'll have to worry about this later.

My face was smacked with the taverns warm and friendly atmosphere as soon as I stepped in. My muscles suddenly went lack, my frozen bones trying to soak up the heat greedally. No one paid mind to me, except for someone that made themselves comfortable in the darkest corner. Their eyes followed my every move as I made my way over to pay for a bed. I could feel their eyes burning into me – the same feeling I had back in the woods – predatory, like im the prey. I snapped my head in their direction with my eyebrows narrowed. 

The blonde woman still held my gaze, dangerously, not even bothering to look away. I felt challenged, even threatened by the other womans overly dominate stare. I shook my head and brushed her off. I didnt want to start trouble. I didnt feel like being hauled off to jail for killing someone. Or, you know, on the run. Though, I had no chance at getting away; whiterun was more fortified and had three times more gaurds. I would be dead before I could even reach the gate. And if I did manage to slip out then I would probably be shot down by the gaurds stationed outside. Everything evaporated from my mind as I paid the tavern owner and made my way to my rented room. I still felt the womans gaze on me as I left.

I threw myself on the bed, sweet roll cradled to my chest like a beloved possation. As soon as I took a bite of that sweet, soft pastry, everything sorrowful was forgotten. I felt fuzzy on the inside as the sugar in the glaze worked its magic, a past longing ached soon after the warmth. It was like reality came crashing back down on me, like an abolanch that swallowed me whole in one gulp. The last bite slithered down my throat, not so pleasurebale as the first. Sweet rolls used to be my childhood treat. Now, they reminded me of what used to be and what ive lost. They didnt hold that loving effect they used to – only pain. 

My mouth stung as I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from releasing a sob at the rememberance. It was like my walls were deterating slowly, my protective armor cracking. I felt the all too familiar of wetness that swelled at the corners of my jade eyes. The misery came in waves, crashing and rippling through my nerves. My fingertips dug into my chest and I gritted my teeth. Thats when it happened – a pearl-shaped tear rolled down my rosy cheek. The world was grey, blury. But then again, its always been that way, dark and stressful. Sorrowful. I wasnt going to let this world get the best of me. Im certainly not going to waste another tear on the past and on myself. Too many times too many nights. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a shaky breath. I need to calm down. 

"You'll be ok, Brela," I said to myself. "Well, at least I hope so."

Soon I was calmed down enough to full lay down and go to bed. The earlier event still inched up my neck, causing it to throb and pulse through my skull. I had an unsentling ache of the possibility of me being slaughtered in my sleep. I soon fell asleep in spite, used to the aching from years of experience.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transferring this from PC to mobile did not turn out how I wish it did. Sorry for any issues, I tried to fix them.

I wake up faster than a cat in ice-water, my eyes widen as I peered up at a rotting wooden ceiling and felt the cold flooring underneath me. I clawed my way to standing and feverishly looked around the cramped space. It smelt how it looked: rotten wood, mildew, and with a hint of the familiar stench of metallic. That's when I saw it, the three figures on their knees farthest away from me, hoods hiding their identies. My arms began to shake uncontrollable as I reached for my scabbard and made sure my weapon was still there, which is was. But that didn't stop my heart from racing, and it felt like it was about to bust out of my chest and ditch me here.

"Sleep well?"

That split second I pulled out my blade and twisted around to face the voice, ready to use it. My eyes traveled up to a woman up top a shelf, her leg casually dangling over the side, swinging it back and forth. The woman wore a suit of black and red, a cowl and hood hiding her features. It looked familiar—her attire. Where have I seen it?

I scowled at her and bared my teeth. "Who the hell are you and where did you take me."

"Who I am really isn't as important as what I am. And what I am is an admirer. Of sorts." She hummed, thinking a bit. "Does it matter? You're warm, dry... and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmm?" She held a look in her eyes that was familiar – dangerous. Murderous. Cold. 

I couldn't stop the sickening laugh that left my mouth, my brain throbbed in pulses against my skull. I was beyond pissed. 

"Oh, let me guess. You're the one who sent me that lovely letter aren't you?" I asked. "Are you going to kill me now? Because im not going to make it easy for you, if so. Ill burn this whole damn cabin down if I have to."

The woman shook her head. "No. if I wanted to do so I would have already done so, now wouldn't I? There is a reason why I have brought you here, one that requires your... talents. You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill... that you stole. A kill you must repay. However, not so in your own blood."

I shifted my gaze back to the hooded figures for a second before turning my attention back on the mysterious woman.

"You want me to murder one of them," I said. I already knew what was about to happen.

"Well now. Aren't you smart. And since you've already seen my guest I might as well explain why we are all here." She motioned towards the kneeling people with a blade. "I've collected them from... well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But... which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill, I just want to observe... and admire."

I snickered once more, trying to hide my nerves. "All you had to do was ask."

"See, I knew we could resolve this civilly. A debt owed must be repaid. You understand that. Well, get to it then. Pick your guest, and send the poor fool to the Void. I'll give you the key to this shack, and you'll be on your way."

I blocked out her presence and made my way over to the three. I clicked my tongue, thinking very carefully on the situation. I stood in front of them: a man, a woman, and a khajit. Now, who could it be? Perhaps they all had contracts, maybe not. But that didn't really matter did it, all I had to do was kill one of them, right? So why not all three of them. Just in case.

I circled around them, a wicked smile that stretched from ear to ear formed on my face as I glide my index finger on the mans shoulder, and patted the woman's face, both earning a shocked gasps or visible shiver. I poked the khajiits tail with the tip of my foot, he lowly hissed in response. 

I snickered at all of them. "Ah, how fun this will be. Who wants to go first?" I took their silence as their answer. 

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, Catch a tiger by the toe. If he screams, let it go," I sung. I almost skipped around the khajiit, hungry to spill blood with my blade.

And thats when I lifted up his hood, meeting a snarl, his teeth bare. I could only smile, one that didnt meet my eyes. I grabbed him by the back of the head and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting it and then ripping it viscously the rest of the way. The life in his eyes left, glossed. And with that tightened my grip on one of his ears, placing a foot on his chest, I twisted and yanked his head, plucking it clean off his shoulders. I threw his head to the ground -- it landed with a delicious thud. 

I stood behind the woman now, and my right arm tingled once more, fire flickering from my palm. And without warning I set her hood on fire, her pained screams ingulfed the small shack. She tried to fall forward but I held her still by the shoulders. Soon I could smell the scent of burning flesh and burning hair; i was strangely used to it. Her flesh melted and stuck to the burning hood over her head, soon traveling down to her dress and engulfing her further in the lushes, blazing heat. I let her crumble to the ground – and soon enough, not very long – she was dead.

And lastly, I motioned over to the last guest. I pulled off his hood and peered at him, looking into his vibrant baby blue eyes. I halted, thinking.

"You have quite the beautiful pair of eyes," I said. "Might I barrow them for a bit?"

The man gasped as I brung the dagger close to one of his eyes, leaning back and sparing me an empty threat. He was a trembling mess, a dead giveaway of what he truly felt, no doubt manifested by the screams of the other two.

I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded anyway. One second he was brimming with the mixture of fear and hate, but now, pure agony. I plucked out his right eye, now an empty, bloody socket was left in place. He screamed, his body compulsing violently. I took the long viens of the eye between my fingers and dangled it in front of his face, mockingly. I haven't had this much fun in a while, it was exilerating. 

I discarded the eye somewhere in the room. I went ahead and finished the job, and plunged the dagger into his remaining eye, rotating it, gripping him by the back of his head and burring the blade deeper into his socket. As soon it popped through his bone I could almost practically feel the soft tissue of his brain as it sunk in easy. I pulled out the knife and wiped it clean on his clothing, along with my hands that were coated in scarlet. 

I felt lighter, slightly content. All the stress that weighted on my shoulders melted away. The sight of the dead bodies soaked up the misery that ate away at my soul, leaving me empty yet full – my hunger for blood satisfied for now. If I didn't know better, I would denie this obvious feeling. I enjoyed killing, no doubt about it. It was clear to me now. 

And I defiantly enjoy it. I would even consider it a new hobby of mine – my only hobby, actually. 

My ears picked up the faint creaking of a loose floor board and I snapped my head in the other womans direction. I almost forgot she was here, to be honest. She was now down from the shelf, now facing me completely.

"Well, well. Aren't we the overachiever. Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances... and the show. Very good," she said.

I cleared my throat, coming back to my senses. "Its quite... Exilerating."

"You and I are more alike than you think. To enjoy such activities, the taking of a life," she stated. "And you, my friend, understand whats truly important. When I give an order to spill blood, you follow it. No questions. No remorse."

I narrowed my eyes at her, repeating her words in my mind over and over again. I could sense the edge to her voice, like she was expecting something.

"So... im free to go now?" 

"Of course. And you've repaid your debt, in full. Here's the key to the shack. But why stop here? I say we take our relationship to the next level. I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join my Family. The Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: Silence, my brother. Then you're in. And your new life begins. I'll see you at home.

"Remember, the Sanctuary is in the southern Pine Forest. Just beneath the road, and away from prying eyes," she finished. She handed me the key and motioned at my pack I forgot to notice earlier. But instead of leaving as she thought I would, I stood my ground, playing with the key subcousouly in my right hand. 

"Why dont I head there with you?" I asked, eagerness present in my tone.

With her face mostly covered, I couldn't make out how she truly felt about my eager proposal. Her trained eyes remained the same, stoic, unemotional. But her eyebrows quirked, showing she was actually mulling over what I said. 

There was a pregnant pause before she actually replied. "Well, well. Of course, my dearest. The quicker the better."

I quickly snatched up my pack and proceeded to unlocking the door. I hadn't realized how hot and stuffy the shack was until I stepped outside and felt the wind cool my sweat dampened skin. 

I almost jumped out of my own skin from the threatening sound of clip-clopping. 

"What is that..." My eyes buldged from my skull at the sight. 

It was a horse, but not just any horse. Demonic, almost. It had a gorgous ebony coat; its mane flowed elegantly over its slender neck. Deep, piercing crimson eyes that reminded me of cooling blood stared back at me. Its muscles rippled as its stocky leg kicked at the mud. The horse was bare ecept for the black saddle with a familiar red hand painted on it. The symbol of the Dark Brotherhood.

The woman patted the horse. "Ah, this is Shadowmere. Shes quite... special. Unique. You wont find a horse like her any where else." 

"I can tell," I muttered. I slowly reached out and ran my hand down the horses siky, soft coat. "Shes gorgeous."

The woman nodded. "Yes. Now, it wont take much time to arrive at the sanctuary." She fluidly jumped up on the horse. She motioned for me to join. My attempt to get on the horse, however, was not as graceful as her. 

The horse suddenly leaped forward, thrusting my torso backwards as she started to gallop. I clawed at the saddle and tried to stay on. Even her speed was not natural for a normal horse, such as her obvouis appearance.

I didnt question her name, not yet anyways. That could wait. I didnt even know what she looked like, underneath that cowl. If I could trust her was out of the question, she was an assassin after all. Id learned not to put my trust in others a long time ago. People, no matter how close, always stab you in the back; and this woman literally stabbed people in the back, or however she chooses to murder. She was a cold blooded killer, a murderous woman. But so was I. The only difference being she was seasoned in the art, and I was only now finding out my craving for this activity. 

Maybe its always been there, perhaps it was provoked by all the hate I had trapped inside for so long, now finally flowing from my corrupted being in a form of brutalality. But there was some part of me that wanted to be close to someone again – a friend, just someone to talk to – and maybe. Just maybe, the Dark Brotherhood wont be as bad. Instead of insolation. Solitude of ones self, which I adapted to. Though, I was more than exilerated to finally, possibly, be apart of something worth while. And I couldnt wait to start.

I felt like every fiber of my being was vibrating with anticipation. Andrenaline coursed through my vains as the wind whipped through my hair and bit at my watering eyes. Before I knew it, we trudged off the main road and began down a hill. Then we completely stopped in a well hidden small covering, a miniature pond filled with black, murky water to the farthest corner. The woman hopped down and made her way over to a rocky opening in the hill. She turned back to me, hands resting on her hips, waiting patiently as I carefully slid off the horses back.

Before I could even comprehend, Shadowmere strodded over to the pond, liquifiing and desippearing among the black water. My eyes widened, I couldnt say anything. I slapped myself out of it, however. I shouldnt be surprised.

She held up her hands and motioned inside the small opening. "Go ahead. Open the door."

I finally stood beside her, and was taken aback by the door. It was quite intimatading, a skull batruding from its surface, a giant hand glowed ruby from its forehead. It reminded me of the seal wax on the letter I received. And then there was a full figured skeleton etched the same, lacking against the frame with piles of skulls gathering below it. It reeked of death.

I causously stood in front of the door, memerized by rhe detail that was put into it. I ran a hand down the surface, but I quickly snatched it back once the door spoke. 

The hand flashed brightly with every word it hissed. "What is the music of life?"

I racked through my brain trying to remember what the woman told me. "Uh. Silence, my brother."

The door clicked, signalling it was now unlocked. "Welcome home." 

I pushed on the door and was surprised how easily it swung open. I expected it to be heavy. Without looking back and acknowledging the woman I went ahead and stepped into. It smelt dingy, stale. But as I advanced down the stairs it started to smell sweet, entangling favorable with the raw aroma of dirt. My eyes brightened as I peered around the room. The woman walked ahead of me, further into the room and rested against the only table in the room. I took note of the knives petruding from its surface.

The woman's hands flied up to her cowl and pulled down the hood, then slid down the mask that covered her identity – she pulled them off completely and sat them on the table behind her. My eyes widen and my heart stopped for a split second, then I clenched my jaw.

"You – you're the woman from the tavern!" The woman cocked her head in response.

Her blue eyes pierced into mine. "Perhaps. But, that does not matter now. I'm Astrid, this sanctuary's Dark Brotherhoods leader, your leader, now. But the question is: who are you?"

I shook my head, constiplating my next move. I still felt weary, but I brushed it off shortly after. I knew she knew my name already. "Brela."

"Hmm. Well, welcome to your new life in the Dark Brotherhood, Brela. You're part of the Family, after all. This, as you can see, is our Sanctuary. You won't find a safer place in all of Skyrim. So get comfortable."

"Family?" I asked. "Im honored to be a part in your family, Astrid."

"Our Family, my dearest. Our Family. Together, united as one, the Dark Brotherhood can accomplish anything. But you must be anxious to get to work. I'm arranging a job, but need a bit more time. For now, go see Nazir. He's got several smaller contracts."

She hummed, pushing herself from the table and walked over to a cabnit. She reached into it and pulled out a neatly folded bundle. "Soon, the Night Mother will arrive. And things around here are sure to get even more interesting. Ah, but one last thing. A welcome home present. The armor of the Dark Brotherhood. May it serve you well in all your... endeavors." She handed me the bundle of black and red. "It should fit you, and if not, well see if I can find one of your size. And if you deem necessary, you could tailor it to your liking. However, try not to ruin this one."

I couldn't hide the small smile that graced my chapped lips. The mention of the Night Mother made my corosity hungry, starving for answers. After all, if I was going to be a part of this I needed to know what exactly I was getting myself into, and whom I was involving myself with. Astrid still stood in her place, waiting for my reply.

"Thank you, Astrid. For this oppertinity. But might I ask who is the Night Mother? Im not well informed about our... ways and such. Not yet."

"You are welcomed," Astrid said. "The Unholy Matron, the Shrouded Lady, the Mistress of the Void. She goes by many names. Ages past, Sithis gave a woman five children. She killed them to win his favor, thus becoming the Night Mother. If you believe that sort of thing. Today, she's... well, she's a skeleton. An ancient corpse. But, more importantly, a corpse that's being brought to this Sanctuary by her Keeper."

"So the Night Mother is being brought here?"

"Yes. A few months ago I received word from the Night Mother's Keeper that he had arrived in Skyrim from Cyrodiil. The Night Mother's crypt, in Bravil, was destroyed. A result of the chaos caused by the war with the Thalmor. That forced a relocation. I don't know where the Keeper has been these past few months, but I recently received another letter. He's bringing the Night Mother here. Soon."

"I didnt know her crypt was in Bravil wait. Do you mean the statue the Lucky Lady? Thats her crypt?"

"Yes. So you already know, I see."

I was going to say it, but I quickly shut my mouth. That moment of hesitation did dont go unnoticed by Astrid.

"What is it, Brela? You have something to say. I can tell."

"Its just... I'm from Cyrodiil."

Astrid wasn't surprised. "Ah, how interesting. That explains some things, as of before. It was hard to find you, you know. There wasnt much to go off. And that, of course, is a great advantage. How long have you resided in Skyrim?"

"Not that long, actually. Maybe two weeks? A few days? I didnt think to keep track honestly." I said dryly. I shook my head and changed the subject fast. "I well. Anyways, is there any rules I should know?"

Astrid took the hint but crossed her arms. "Used to be the Dark Brotherhood was bound by Five Tenets, but we stopped following those years ago. All those rules, all that discipline, and look where the Dark Brotherhood ended up. We're the last of our kind, and we live the way we see fit. Bottom line - respect your Family. Do that, and everything else will fall into place."

I nodded my head. "Got it. And, uh I take it there are others here as well."

"Oh, yes. There are a few of us." She motioned to the door way that lead downstairs. "Be sure and introduce yourself to your new Family members. They're all very eager to meet you. But first, if you would like to change into your armor before meeting them, right through that door is my room. Now hurry. Wouldnt want them to wait, now would we."

Without another word I went into her room and closed the door behind me. I was quick to change, though, the light armor hung loosly to my frame. It didnt exactly fit like Astrids did to hers, skin tight. Hopefully ill grow into it. Gain a bit of much needed weight

I stepped in front of a mirror, observing myself. I was at least two sizes bigger then before; my thighs were considerably thicker than they used to be compared to a few weeks ago. I had a healthy, but still too thin, layer of fat that covered over my ribs partially and filled in my stomach. I looked healthy – almost. The suit bagged a little at the knees and flooded at my ankles because of my short legs; I had to fold the bottom on my pants leg just so it wouldnt look funny with the boots on. And my height – small – Is all I can say. I was at least a foot shorter than most people.

After changing I stuffed the other clothing into my bag, as well as my cowl, and stepped out of the room to be met with Astrid, now leaning against the door frame to downstairs. 

She suddenly took note of my appearance. "The armor is a bit loose, but not by much. Are you pleased with it?"

"It will do."

"Well, if you say so. Just head downstairs now, get acquainted."

And with that I made my leave, decinding into a large, open area. The walls were rocky, vegetation grew here and there, the dark sea of grey clashed with a bit of vibrant green that sprouted from inbetween cracks in the walls. My mouth hung open at the sight of a small waterfall, a buetiful stained glass window was above it, a skull once again. And thats when my eyes finally fell on the group of people conversing in the middle of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'ma write some Cicero/reader and Lucien LaChance/reader smut. Porn with a little plot/ porn without plot. 😏👉👉


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